


Loose Ends

by neithersaintnorsinner



Category: Elementary (TV), Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-31 20:33:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1036077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neithersaintnorsinner/pseuds/neithersaintnorsinner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the sex tape incident, Darcy tells Gigi that Wickham "will never be able to do this again". She and Lydia decide it's best to trust, but verify.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loose Ends

**Author's Note:**

> A birthday present (oops all of my writing is presents lately?) for [Miranda](http://butwewereokay.tumblr.com).

A year ago, during a simpler and much less interesting time in her life, Joan might— _might_ have been surprised that a strange woman was standing in front of the brownstone at seven in the morning. Now she’s entirely unfazed.

Even if the woman does have a Birkin bag slung casually over one shoulder.

Joan removes her earbuds, slows her pace as she walks up to the door. Her heart is still pounding in her ears from her morning run, and she can feel sweat trickling down the back of her neck. Sherlock hadn’t mentioned anything about meeting a potential client, but this isn’t exactly the type of place you stumble across accidentally.

The woman turns at her approach. “Hi,” she says, managing to sound both eager and uncertain, “I’m looking for a—Mr. Holmes?”

***

Sherlock is standing stock still, shirt inside-out, in front of his blaring seven television screen set-up (is one of the channels in _Hindi_? That’s new.) They haven’t had a case for several days, and Sherlock tends to get restless—well, _more_ restless—when that happens. The living room is strewn with cold cases instead of the usual, carefully constructed chaos of an investigation.

Joan walks up behind him, covering her ears. She has to almost shout: “Sherlock!”

He half-turns his head, and then his gaze concentrates on the woman with Joan—focuses, abruptly.

“Ah. My apologies if you were ringing the bell,” he shuts off the televisions. “Sherlock Holmes.”

The woman sort of trips over her introduction: “Georgiana—Gigi Darcy.”

***

“Wow,” Joan can’t help murmuring as she examines the photograph she’s just been handed. The man pictured is practically the definition of classically handsome—sharp cheekbones, square jaw, piercing blue eyes.

Sherlock shoots her a petulant glance before turning back to Gigi. “Why do you need us to find this Mr. Wickham?”

“Back in February, George hurt a—a friend of mine.”

Joan feels Sherlock stiffen in his seat next to her, but his voice remains cool. “How so?”

Gigi folds and unfolds her hands in her lap, hesitant. She can’t be more than twenty-two, Joan thinks, but right now she somehow looks much younger. “We know how to handle things discreetly,” she assures her.

“It’s not that. I mean, it isn’t exactly a secret,” Gigi lets out a breath, and the rest of the words tumble out in a rush. “He made a tape of them...together. Like,  _together_. A private tape. Lydia—that’s the friend—knew about that. What she didn’t know was that a website was going to go up, offering to sell it to anyone interested, and George would be nowhere to be found.”

“If this happened months ago,” Joan frowns, “Why do something about it now? Surely it’s too late to—”

She shakes her head. “You don’t understand. I’m not here about the tape at all; that was taken care of. I’m here because Lydia and I need you,” she repeats, “To find George.”

***

They tell Gigi they’ll be in touch; Joan showers, and they discuss whether or not to take on the case over breakfast.

“She and Lydia are right,” Joan muses, buttering two slices of toast before putting one on Sherlock’s plate. “This guy Darcy might have taken care of things by buying that company, but there's nothing to stop George from hurting some other woman.”

Sherlock lifts the kettle from the stove, pours its contents into cups and sets one before Joan. “Mm. Quite the opposite, in fact, if he thinks he can continue to be paid for his efforts."

“But what do they want to do with him if we track him down?”

“If you’re suggesting something gruesome, Watson, I daresay a hired killer would’ve been more expedient than engaging two investigators. Georgiana Darcy is quite well-to-do, I’m sure it’d be very little trouble.”

“Yeah, I noticed her purse,” she picks at some of the crumbs on her plate and squints at Sherlock, thoughtfully. “You recognized her right away.”

“The Darcy family has its roots in England, you know; they keep contacts back in London. They’ve used my private consulting services in the past—the last time about nine years ago, to find an embezzler at their company. I noticed the family resemblance.”

Sherlock’s phone buzzes on the counter before she can reply. He stands up to read it, bounces on his feet a little. “Right then. I’ve a proposition for you, Watson.”

***

“You want me to go to California alone?!”

“I’d advise starting in the San Fernando Valley, specifically, if you’re pursuing leads in the, ah, adult entertainment industry. Assuming you’re not averse to handling the case on your own, of course. Now that Captain Gregson’s offered up a new case with the NYPD, I see no reason why we shouldn’t—divide and conquer, hm? I’m fully confident in your abilities. It should be a brief but valuable, not to mention _paid_ , endeavor, and then we may continue on the police case together.”

She rolls her eyes. “And that way you don’t have to fly out to L.A.”

“I have not the smallest objection to, nor anything so absurd as fear of, _flying_. We flew to London together, if you’ll recall.”

Joan does recall. Vividly.

“All right,” she says. “I’m not _averse_.”

“I will happily consult with you via telephone or video chat, if you like. And vice-versa,” he adds, after a second. “You will ask for help if you need it, Watson? How is your self-defense coming along?”

(He fusses over her for another ten minutes or so, but Joan finds herself looking forward to her case.)

**Author's Note:**

> Did it bother anyone else that the vlogs (and Darcy) expect us to just rest assured Wickham won't do this again? Well, Joan Watson's on the case. I'll leave it up to your imagination what they do with George when she finds him.


End file.
